Chapter Eleven
Lottie
I place another dish in the drainer, my eyes on the window that faces Doris’s house.
“You forgot to rinse it,” my mom says.
“Again?” I shake my head at the sudsy plate slopping bubbles onto the clean dishes around it. My mom brushes my hand away as I reach for it and pulls out the sprayer attachment.
“That’s how we do it on the farm.”
I crack a smile, but barely.
“What’s on your mind, sweetie?”
My shoulders drop. “Felicity. She spends a lot of time with Anthony. A lot a lot. I’m getting…concerned.”
My mom’s eyebrows knit together. “He seems trustworthy enough. Have you talked with him about it?”
I don’t know how to even go about it. All I know is that in the past few days, Felicity has become secretive. As if she doesn’t have enough time with Anthony in the same house all day, she runs over after dinner most nights while I’m giving a piano lesson. When I questioned her about it, she pulled an invisible zipper over her lips.
“I don’t want to offend him.” I chew my lip. This is really bothering me. Felicity’s been through enough. I won’t stomach her being hurt by another man. Her father did the job quite thoroughly, thank you very much.
“She needs a good, fatherly influence, don’t you think?” Mom reaches for a towel and begins drying the dishes. It’s Tuesday, more than a week after my date with Anthony. It’s still pretty much all I think of, even if I haven’t said more than “good morning” and “have a great night” to him since.
“But Mom—he’s leaving soon.”
Her eyes linger on my face as I sponge out the sink. “And don’t you sound torn up about that?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I slap the sponge down and turn away, but she spins me by my shoulder.
“Charlotte Huisman, I’m your mother. I can see through you as clear as the water in the crick on the farm. You like Anthony Lucio.”
“Like him? No.” My heart protests her words—or is it my denial? “We only went on that date as a mutual agreement to pacify you and Doris.”
“And it was wonderful.”
I release a frustrated growl in my throat. “I already told you it wasn’t, so—”
“Lies, lies. I thought I taught you better than that.”
“Mom—”
“Admit you like him, and I’ll leave you alone.”
I lean my back against the counter. “He’s handsome, sure.”
“Very handsome,” she echoes. I clench my teeth.
“He’s also so not my type.”
My mom waves my words away. “John was your type, and we all know how that ended. Types can change.”
Yeah, but not for me. I can’t have a type. Not anymore. The farm needs me more than my love life does. End of story.
The next day when I pick up Felicity, she’s on the porch with Anthony, their shoulders hunched together as they pore over a piece of paper. I clear my throat, and their heads snap up. Anthony smoothly slides the paper under his leg.
“Hello, Lottie.” His eyes, though not unpleasant, are guarded. “How are you?”
My fists ball at my sides. “Felicity, go on home now. I need to speak to Mr. Lucio.”
“But Mom—”
“Now, young lady. You know better than to argue with me.”
With a huff, she slinks off the porch. Anthony lifts a hand, his eyes following her across the lawn, and I know Felicity must have waved behind my back. I wait until she’s out of earshot, then advance three steps until I’m towering over Anthony.
As if I could tower over anything. The wicker chair he’s sitting on is almost as tall as I am. But he’s the one sitting, which gives me a rare height advantage.
“I’m back to Mr. Lucio, am I?” he says.
“I want to know what’s going on with you and Felicity.”
He blinks slowly, as if he’d been blindsided. “What?”
“I’m not dumb because I’m a farm girl,” I say, sarcasm rich in my tone. “Fel is spending a ton of time with you, and I don’t know how I feel about that.”
His brown eyes are drilling holes into me as he straightens. “Are you suggesting I’m doing something…inappropriate?”
Oh, great hayrides. That’s not what I meant! But what if…? No way. This is Anthony. I know him better than that. Don’t I? Wait, I don’t really. Oh. My. Word.
“What’s going on?” I hiss, narrowing my eyes and the distance between our faces. His swallow is noticeable.
“Nothing bad, Lottie. I swear.”
I’m making a lawyer nervous. I kinda like this. I feel empowered. Until I look deeply into his eyes and see the hurt lurking there.
“I’m not that kind of person,” he says, his voice hoarse, and I bow my head, ashamed. This is Anthony. The man I want to go on dates with every night. For the rest of my life, if I could.
I waver on my feet. Where did that thought come from? It’s not like I’m in love with this guy. I only find him mildly intriguing, dashingly handsome, and a curious contradiction of grumpiness and kindness.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean anything like that. I’m just a single mom freaking out.” I dare to look at him, and he nods, offering more grace than I deserve.
“Felicity asked for my help with something,” he says, which only makes my curiosity blossom all the more.
“With what?”
A conspiratorial gleam brightens his eyes. I’m a goner. This man is, apparently, my kryptonite. “That’s confidential. I’m not at liberty to share.”
I roll my eyes. “Anthony, she’s an eight-year-old. Not a client.”
His lips—lips that are looking more enticing each time I see him—twist with a bit of humor. “Sorry, ma’am. Judge put a gag order on this case. I’m not allowed to talk.”
I want to kick him. And kiss him. How can I want both at the same time? This man makes me crazy.
“You’re impossible.”
He grins, his smile wide. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I pause, wanting to stretch this moment. I shouldn’t be talking to him. I shouldn’t be anywhere near him. It won’t do any good. I still can’t have him.
“Just…be careful with her.” My voice drops to a whisper. “She’s been hurt so much.”
He jerks forward and captures my wrist in his hand. The circle of my skin burns. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t hurt her. Or you. Believe me.”
Should I believe him? God, should I?
So help me, I do. Even if it’s to my detriment.